Once upon a December
by Jackie-the-barricade-girl
Summary: Based on Anastasia. After an attack on the royal palace, the only two survivors were Enjolras and Combeferre, the sons of the Tsar Nicholas the second. After they manage to escape the palace, they tried to escape to Paris to find their Grandmother, however Enjolras and Combeferre get separated. Combeferre never saw his brother again...until ten years later, that is. E/R
1. Chapter 1

Once upon a December

**TESTER CHAPTER. Should I continue this or not?**

_I remember it as if it were only yesterday…_

_My father was Nicholas Romanov II, the ruler of all Russia. He was holding a ball to celebrate the three hundred years that our family had ruled. The ball was spectacular. It was an unforgettable sight. My brother, Enjolras Romanov and I were two of Nicholas' five children. I was two years older than him, making me ten and him eight. We were the youngest of his children…_

_That ball was the last night we ever spent with our beloved family, for that very night, disaster struck the Romanov palace. Our family was attacked. My brother and I were trapped in the palace._

_Enjolras and I were the only two of the Romanovs left. The rest of our family had already perished. We never would have lived if it weren't for the kitchen boy. I believe his name was Grantaire. He was about nine years old at the time. Grantaire helped us escape by opening a passageway through the hall. He was the reason my brother and I survived the palace attack._

_My brother and I planned to take a train to Paris, where are Grandmother lived. It was our only hope. And to think we almost made it… Enjolras and I got separated at the last second. Enjolras got lost in all the commotion. I tried to find him, and when my efforts became hopeless, I left without him._

_I never saw him again._

_I now live with my grandmother, the Dowager Empress, Marie Feodorovna. She took care of me for ten years. Now, on my twentieth birthday, I'm reopening the search party to find my lost brother. Who knows…he might still be out there._

Oxo

Ten years later

Grantaire stood in the middle of St Petersburg. The poor and ragged men and women that scurried about the streets were whispering around. Apparently, the only thing that kept the people of Russia alive was gossip. Grantaire overheard the woman standing next to him, speaking to her husband. "Have you heard the rumours?" The woman asked almost in disbelief, "Word on the street says that the young Enjolras Romanov could have survived the 1916 rebellion."

"You mean one of Nicholas Romanov's children could be still alive?" The man questioned.

The woman nodded. "Yes. His brother, Combeferre Romanov and his royal grandmother are willing to pay millions for the return of the missing Romanov."

Grantaire's eyes widened. A sudden idea popped into his drunken dead brain. He darted off down the road, dodging past many passers-by. He came to the market place where he knew a certain someone would be trying to sell fake diamonds. He yelled over to one of the men at the stalls. "Courf', get over here!"

Courfeyrac sighed and jumped over the stall table, knocking off some of the plastic jewels. He dodged passed some of the speeding men and women that passed by, going about their usual business. "What? I'm in the middle of something!"

"I just had the most amazing idea." Grantaire said with a grin.

"Oh, and what might that be?"

"Have you heard-"

"The thing about the Romanovs? Yeah, a woman told me this morning." Courfeyrac said with a sigh. "What's your point? I'm really busy!"

Grantaire slung an arm over Courfeyrac's shoulder. "My friend, do you want to be rich?"

"Well everyone wants to be rich, but that doesn't mean they're going to be."

"I have a plan that could make you and I rich beyond our wildest dreams! Combeferre Romanov said he'd pay millions to have his brother back."

"Are you seriously suggesting we attempt to find the missing Romanov son? You do realise this is NEVER going to work, right? He could be anywhere!"

"Wrong my friend! Wrong! We're not going to find the real missing Romanov. We'll just hire a stand in!" Grantaire said, grinning. "I mean, I worked at the Romanov palace for nine years. I know what Enjolras would look like. We just need to hire an eighteen year old version of him, take him to Paris, convince Combeferre that he's Enjolras and BOOM! We're rich!"

Courfeyrac scratched his chin. "It might work, though loads of other people are going to be doing the same thing, so we better get a move on, and you do realise it's not going to be easy. I mean, Combeferre knows who his brother is. If we're going to get an imposter, he needs to be pretty convincing."

"Eh, so there are a few details we need to sort out. It's easy. My friend, we're going down in history!"

…

One week later…

Combeferre shook his head. "No, this is just getting too complicated."

"You'll find him soon dear, don't worry." His grandmother comforted.

"Millions of people have come in claiming to be Enjolras. They're all liars! All I want is to see my brother…my real brother. I need to know if he's still out there."

"I'm sure he is Combeferre, just be patient."

Combeferre rubbed his eyes. "What if he's not? What if he's dead?"

"Trust me 'Ferre. One of these men is your brother. I'm certain."

Oxo

Julien sat at the train station, waiting for something to happen. When Julien was eight, he remembered waking up on this very platform, not remembering anything about who he was. He didn't even know his real name. He went by Julien because the people at the orphanage thought the name suited him well. Julien knew nothing of his life. He'd left the orphanage about forty hours ago. Within those forty hours he'd managed to make it all the way to St Petersburg without a cent on him.

Julien had always wondered…what was his life like before all of this? Before he went to the orphanage…did he have a family? Was he loved by anyone? Sometimes Julien would get flashbacks of what his old life might have been.

Julien wants to know what his past used to be. He might even have a family. He doesn't know what the future holds, but he intends to find out.

Oxo

**Well? Thoughts? Tips? Pointers? Should I continue? Leave a comment!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, so I'm really stressed and I decided to write this because I'm trying to get the stress out. URGH! Sigh. Thanks for reading by the way. It means a lot to know I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to writing.**

**Just FYI, in this story, Enjolras is eighteen, Grantaire's nineteen, Courfeyrac's nineteen and Combeferre's twenty**

"How about this guy?" Courfeyrac asked, handing Grantaire yet another creased photograph. "He's eighteen. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Tallish."

Grantaire squinted his pale green eyes at the photo and snorted. "Enjolras has curly hair, not straight. Also Enjolras has crystal blue eyes. This guy has sea blue." He carelessly handed the photograph back to him.

"Does it really make that much of a difference?" Courfeyrac asked, bitterness tinting his words.

"It makes a big difference! We've got a lot riding on this Courf'. We can't afford to make any mistakes." Courfeyrac mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'I hate you.' He scrunched the photograph up into a tight little ball and tossed it into the bin.

"Well, I got nothing."

Grantaire started chewing on his bottom lip. He then clicked his fingers as yet another idea popped into his head. Without another word, Grantaire started walking off down the street with a skip in his step. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and followed him.

"Where are you going?"

Grantaire smiled. "We need information about the missing Romanov son. I say, we start our research at the great palace itself."

Courfeyrac chuckled, "You want to break into the Romanov palace…"

"It's abandoned anyway. I lived there for about two years before I moved to the square." Grantaire said with a grin. "It'll be fine my friend!"

Oxo

Julien found himself wondering…just wondering. Wondering around the streets of St Petersburg, not knowing where he was going. The snow had started coming down in light falls. White snowflakes were starting to gather on the shoulders of his coat and on the top of his hat. Julien was starting to fear that if he didn't get inside soon, he might just freeze to death. His warm breath turned into steam as it left his lips. None of the inns or pubs looked rather pleasant, besides, they probably wouldn't let him stay unless he was buying a drink…and we all knew that wasn't happening.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Julien stopped down the road. He swears he could hear the sound of a lullaby he used to know. Julien turned his head to the building that sat by the side of the road. It seemed abandoned…somewhat, haunted. It was a tall and majestic looking thing. Big enough to be a palace. The windows and doors were boarded up with floor boards. Years had not been kind to this house. He was surprised it was still standing. Enjolras didn't know why he was so drawn to this old and empty house. It seemed somewhat familiar…too familiar.

Julien had walked up to the front steps of the building. He walked over to the door. Luckily the gap between the floor boards that were nailed to the door frame was wide enough for Julien to slip through. _It's not breaking and entering if you don't break anything. _Julien thought to himself. Besides…this place looked pretty much completely abandoned. He doubted anyone actually lived here.

As Julien walked through the empty halls of the building, the lullaby came back to him. A soft and gentle tune…where had he heard it from? He reached what looked like a giant ballroom. Old and dusty paintings hung from the walls on either side of the ballroom. The floor beneath his feet was white marble. Julien couldn't figure out why he found this so familiar. His steps echoed through the hall as he looked around.

But something in the ballroom caught his eye. A giant oil painting hung at the very back of the ballroom. Enjolras stood by the painting, admiring the detail. In the painting stood a tall man with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. The man looked strong and his eyes were a memorable shade of crystal blue. Standing next to him was a beautiful woman. She had light blonde curls and warm blue eyes. Her face was gentle and she wore a smile that was welcoming and somewhat loving. Standing by them were five children. One of the children looked REALLY familiar. Enjolras could have sworn he'd seen that boy with the glasses before. The smallest child looked about seven or eight. He had the same blue eyes as his father and the same hair as his mother. Julien brushed the snow off his shoulders as he stared up at the painting…he couldn't help but wonder why that boy looked kind of like himself.

Julien then heard voices. "I'm telling you Courf'. Combeferre Romanov is smarter than both our brains combined! One mistake and it's ALL over."

Julien watched as a couple of men walked into the ballroom. Perhaps they lived here…then again, judging by their clothes and body language…perhaps not. The men didn't seem to notice Julien standing there. They continued with their conversation. "Grantaire in all honesty, do you really think that we're ever going to find an exact lookalike of the…" Courfeyrac cut his own sentence short. Grantaire raised an eyebrow and then noticed Julien who stood at the end of the hall.

"Hey! What are you doing in here?" Grantaire called. He started walking over to him.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"You can't be in here." Grantaire said, with slight annoyance.

"Why? It's obvious no one lives here. I don't see any reason why I SHOULDN'T be here."

Grantaire looked as if he was about to say something, when something caught his eye. He looked at the oil painting that sat on the wall. Then he looked at Julien. He blinked his eyes. He studied the face of Enjolras, and then the face of Julien. Same eyes…same hair…same smirk… "Courfeyrac!" Grantaire called, his voice breaking in the middle of it. He ran over to him, wringing his hands and whispered "Are. You. Seeing. This."

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Look at the painting of Enjolras, then look at the blonde guy." Courfeyrac squinted. He then noticed it. They practically looked like the same person. The biggest similarity was the sparkling eyes.

"The resemblance is astonishing." Julien stood there awkwardly, wondering what they were whispering about. A few seconds later, Grantaire turned back to Enjolras and walked over to him.

"Right, as I was saying…what are you doing here?" Grantaire's tone had changed completely. His voice had gone from annoyed to somewhat untrustworthy.

Julien shrugged. "I was cold and bored."

Grantaire mumbled. "Right…so what brings you to St Petersburg?"

Julien raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know I wasn't from around here?"

"I didn't…now I do." Grantaire said, grinning. "So, what brings you here?"

"Just got out of the orphanage…trying to find my past. I don't remember any of it." Julien said.

Grantaire blinked a couple of times. "You don't remember anything?"

Enjolras shrugged. "Nope. Ever since I was eight, it all seemed to go blank."

"You left your orphanage, so that makes you, what, seventeen?"

"Eighteen." Julien corrected.

Grantaire grinned again. "Has anyone told you, you look a lot like Prince Enjolras Romanov?"

Julien furrowed his eyebrows. "Who?" Grantaire gestured to the painting that hung behind him. "Oh, right."

"It's just that, my friend and I are on a journey to find the lost prince. He was lost after this place was attacked. His brother's been looking for him for the past two weeks. My friend and I were thinking that once we find the real Enjolras, we'll take him to Paris and reunite him with his brother."

"Paris?"

"Yep." Grantaire said, spinning on his heels. "It's a beautiful place. Perfect place to just get away from it all, know what I mean? We're getting a train there."

"Wouldn't have a spare ticket would you?"

Grantaire shrugged. "Well, we've only got three. One for me, one for Courf' and of course, one for Enjolras…although, looking at you now, there's a possibility that you could be him. I mean, you've got the Romanov eyes. The hair. The looks."

"You're not seriously suggesting I'm a prince right?" Julien said with a 'you must be joking' tone.

Courfeyrac smirked. "Well, if you don't remember any of your past, there is a possibility that you ARE in fact, a Romanov."

Julien raised an eyebrow. "Ok, I don't care how much I look like the guy. I'm no prince."

Grantaire shrugged. "Well, if that's the case, we can't take you to Paris. Sorry. See you around." Grantaire walked over to Courfeyrac and slung an arm over his shoulder. "3…2…1"

They started to walk out when they heard Julien call. "Wait a second."

Grantaire and Courfeyrac turned around. "Ummhmm?" Grantaire said, casually.

"Ok, so-on-the-off chance-that-I-actually-am-this-Enjolras-guy-and-it-turns-out-that-I-actually-do-have-a-family-either-way-it's-a-win-win-situation-because-I'll-be-able-to-go-to-Paris. So I guess what I'm saying is that I could-maybe-possibly be Enjolras. If I am that's great, if not I don't care, but whatever." Enjolras spoke so fast that Grantaire almost didn't catch it.

"…So…I guess you're coming to Paris with us then?"

Oxo

Combeferre sat at his study desk with his head resting on the surface of the table. His grandmother tiptoed in and said, "'Ferre, another person has come to see you. He claims to-"

"Be Enjolras I know. It's the 20th one today…" Combeferre started hitting his head on the desk in front of him with frustration. "I'm. Never. Going. To. Find. Him."

"Calm down dear. It'll be ok."

"No it won't. Every time, it's a new imposter. It's literally tearing my own heart out of my chest." Combeferre said, shaking his head. "I can't go through this anymore…"

His grandmother walked over and wrapped an arm around him. "I know this is tough…but if you really want to find Enjolras, you've got to have faith in him to come forward. Everyone knows that you're looking for him…in time, Enjolras will come."

Combeferre sighed. "…You're right…thank you." His grandmother smiled and kissed him on the cheek. He straightened up and adjusted his glasses. He then cleared his throat. "Send him in."

Oxo

"I'm a genius! I'm an actual genius!" Grantaire said, prancing around his apartment.

"Ok, I'll admit, it went pretty smoothly." Courfeyrac said with a smile.

"This is great! Not only do we have the perfect Enjolras, but he also doesn't know we're conmen. If we play our cards right, maybe we can convince him that he actually IS Enjolras. We won't even have to give him a share of the reward money."

"A toast to the good life!" They clanked their wine glasses together and gulped it down.

"Tomorrow, we're off!"


	3. Chapter 3

**I was half asleep when I was writing this, so I'm sorry if it's a bad chapter. Hope it's ok! Tell me what you think ;)**

Grantaire, Courfeyrac and Julien sat in their dusty old train compartment. They'd been on the train for about two or three hours. Julien had fallen asleep not long ago. He slept sideways on the carriage seats, his cap covering his eyes. Grantaire squinted at the blonde. At first, Grantaire had thought the resemblance was just a major coincidence, but now it was starting to freak him out. He'd never met anyone who looked THIS much like Enjolras before. "Courfeyrac" Grantaire whispered, so he wouldn't wake Julien from his sleep. Courfeyrac sat next to him, fiddling with a pencil he'd found on the floor.

"What?"

Grantaire was picking at his nails, "I can't get over how similar Julien looks to the Romanov son. It's actually pretty scary."

Courfeyrac shrugged. "Your point?"

"What if Julien really IS Enjolras?"

"But he's not. I'm pretty sure **he'd** know if he was the prince of Russia. It's not particularly hard to forget." Courfeyrac said, rolling his eyes.

Grantaire mumbled. "Maybe you're right…" The train whistle sounded, waking Julien from his sleep. "Mornin' princess." Grantaire teased. Julien made a noise of complaint, pulling his cap over his eyes, trying to return to his state of rest. "Just so you know, we're stopping once we reach Germany."

Julien took his cap off and arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"We're not allowed to meet with Combeferre Romanov unless we've been to his consultant, Jean Prouvaire. He's this French guy. Jehan's going to check you up to see if you really are who you say you are. If he thinks that you could be Enjolras, then he'll give you permission to go see Combeferre."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes, "No one told me I had to prove I was Enjolras. I'm fine with showing up and all that, but I'm not lying to anyone."

"It's not lying. It's your past. You just don't remember." Grantaire corrected. "Don't you want to know who you are?"

"But I don't even know if I am Enjolras."

Grantaire smirked. "Trust me, you're Enjolras. Out of all the other people who claim to be Enjolras, I've never met anyone quite like you." Julien mumbled something under his breath and walked out of the train compartment to stretch his legs. Courfeyrac chuckled lightly. "What?"

"Nothing…" he said, suppressing giggles.

"Courfeyrac-"

"Seriously, don't worry about it." Courfeyrac said, hiding the grin behind his newspaper. Grantaire groaned. "It's just that…well you guys look cute together."

"Don't say that." Grantaire said, pulling a face.

"Hey, it's true." Courfeyrac said, "And seeing the way you look at him…"

"It's called acting Courfeyrac. Acting." Grantaire said, crossing his arms.

"Sure" Courfeyrac said sarcastically. Grantaire just rolled his eyes. Julien came back into the train compartment and sat back down at his seat. "Where'd you go off to?"

"Nowhere" Julien replied, slouching in his seat. Grantaire smiled. Even he couldn't deny the fact that he may-slightly-kind-of be attracted to Julien. It was probably just because he looked so much like Enjolras. Grantaire remembered when he was nine; he had a little crush on Enjolras…that was why he helped them escape the palace that night. Deep down, Grantaire kind of wished he could find the real Enjolras…would he remember him from that night? Perhaps not…but it'd be nice to know if he was really out there or not… "Hey." Enjolras said. Grantaire blinked his eyes. "You're staring at me."

Grantaire went bright red. "Sorry…"

Enjolras chuckled. Grantaire laughed awkwardly and looked down at his feet. Enjolras took that moment to study Grantaire's face. Where had he seen those green eyes before? Enjolras admired his eyes. They were sharp and charming but somewhat soft at the same time. "So someone run the plan by me."

"We're stopping off in Germany to meet Jehan, then we're going to take a boat to France." Courfeyrac explained.

Xxx

"Maybe Enjolras doesn't want to be found." Combeferre wondered, tapping his chin with the tip of his finger. "Perhaps he already has a good and healthy family…and if that's the case then who am I to take him away from his loved ones?"

Jehan sat at the other end of the room sipping tea out of a tiny china cup. "You're losing faith _Mon Ami._ He's not going to come back unless you have faith."

"Well I'm running a little low on faith right now Jehan." Combeferre said, straightening his jacket that had been creased from slouching and pacing. He let out an exhausted sigh. "This was a bad idea…I mean even if I did see the real Enjolras I might not even know if it was him."

"You're a Romanov Combeferre, of course you'd know. He's your own brother." Jehan frowned, placing his tea cup on the desk in front of him.

"Yes but…I haven't seen him in ten years…how am I supposed to-"

"Who are you and what have you done with Combeferre?" Jehan hummed. "Come on 'Ferre. When we opened this search party, you had so much hope. Look what's happened to you." Combeferre removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with a cloth that sat on the table. "I know, it breaks your heart, but you can't give up now 'Ferre."

"…I'm going to go back to Paris Jehan…I don't want to see any more people who claim to be my brother…"

"But-"his sentence was cut short by an ice cold glare from Combeferre's blue eyes…the Romanov eyes. Jehan sighed. "…As you wish."

Xxx

Later that night, Julien, Courfeyrac and Grantaire arrived in a little run-down inn not far from where Combeferre's consultant lived. They decided to stay in the inn for the night, so that they could visit Jean Prouvaire tomorrow morning.

They arrived in the room at about eleven PM. Their room was small and only had one bed. One sofa and one bathroom. Since Courfeyrac had paid for the tickets, he got the bed, and since Julien was the **prince of Russia**, he got the sofa, leaving Grantaire with the floor. The wallpaper was damp and had bits of fungus growing on the soggy walls. The room itself looked as though it was going to collapse.

Grantaire placed all their bags on the bed. Courfeyrac yawned and belly flopped onto the bed with a thump. Grantaire was still trying to get Julien to memories everything he needed to know about Enjolras Romanov. "You don't honestly think I can absorb this all in one day…right?"

Grantaire smirked. "You have to. Besides, this should be easy for you. This is YOUR own life after all." Julien shrugged. To be honest, he was absorbing it. It was less of trying to learn, and more of trying to remember…like trying to remember a dream. "Ok, when were you born?"

"6th of December."

"Where were you born?"

"The Romanov palace." Julien said, slipping out of his coat and tossed it on the ground next to his old brown cap.

Grantaire smiled. "Good." He looked Julien up and down for a second. He then remembered something. "Hold on a second." He walked over to the end of Courfeyrac's bed, where his bag sat. He dug into one of the green bags and pulled out a cardboard box. Julien raised an eyebrow as he handed it over to him. "Open it." He gently slipped the lid of the box off. Inside the box sat a red jacket. It was a rather dark shade of red, almost blood-red. Down the side was a row of gold polished buttons sewn on perfectly. Grantaire half-smiled. "Enjolras used to have a similar one…I thought it'd be nice if you had one now."

Julien smiled. "Thanks."

Grantaire nodded. "Get some rest, 'k. You've got a big day tomorrow."


End file.
